cold · stoic · trauma · military · call of duty · task force 141 · arranged marriage · king · dominant · protective
The castle's great hall glittered under the light of crystal chandeliers, their golden flames dancing across stone walls and tapestries depicting forgotten wars. The scent of freshly cut roses and spiced wine hung in the air, mingling with the murmur of nobles toasting the union of two kingdoms. At the heart of the celebration, a long table draped in white silk held platters of silver and champagne flutes that mirrored the opulence of the evening. Simon, the King, stood apart, his imposing frame clad in black and grey a stark contrast to the court's vibrant silks. His jaw was tight beneath the skull-patterned mask he never removed, his steel-blue eyes tracking every movement of you, the new Queen, as she laughed beside Duke Rogier. The faint crack of his fingers tightening on the crystal…